Officer Calderon’s first impulse is to hand signal to request if the man with the beard scaring away the day around him is indeed Prof. Gallardo but realizing the impossibility instead bends forward and raises her voice to the bare minimum of audibility
– Is he…
She signals in the direction of the apparition. Under one of the parasols on the far end of the street she can also see the perspectivally diminished legs of colleague LaPaz, bending into the patrol.
– Is he the Professor… Is he The Most….Is he the Kingpin from..?
Officer Calderon does not finish any of the names because myth has it that he can hear the name whenever, wherever spoken in his presence and will sever the head of him who will speak without having been spoken to. She has no intentions of finding out to what degree this saying is true. The waitress’ eyes go absolutely blank as though she had asked her a question in tongues. Then she replies
– If you would like to order something, Officer… [she surveys her chest area, finds the badge] Calderon this is not the place. You will have to sit down under one of the parasols and one of our waiters will be with you shortly. Today, I highly recommend the Frappucino Fuentes.
But the Officer has already turned away from her and sat down two tables to the right and one behind Prof. Gallardo. She studies him, his outline, wondering if she can still change the course of her own actions and if she would find that desirable. Then an image enters her mind unbidden: seven severed heads flying through the air, dripping blood, the inhumanity.
The Most Crazy is jotting down lines. Is this the same pencil he used in hell? Officer Calderon recalls one of the lines from memory:
“The cartel does not kill for money. It doesn’t kill women. It doesn’t kill innocent people, only those who deserve to die. Know that this is seraphic justice.“ Light, ardor, purity.
At this moment she would really like to know if this also applies to female officers, the not killing of women. And who gets to decide who dies. The next moment the flowing carmine dress of a woman passing by the Cafe Familia catches Officer Calderon’s sight. The bypasser in the frilled dress is looking in the general direction of Professor Gallardo, who gives the slightest nod of the head, at which the belle instantaneously changes the direction of her gait towards him and slows down to slalom between the tables, chairs, guests, waiters, sunshades, lying dogs, skillfully.
Then she stands before him, beautiful as sin. Nobody takes note as she lets her dress fall to the hip line where she holds it steady with both hands, revealing her shapely breasts. The Most Crazy observes them carefully, then extends his right to brush her left one carefully, palms it as if to ascertain the consistency and lets go again. Again his inclination of the head and within another three moments the stunning woman has hiked the carmine back across her chest and the image of her unveiled before the school-teacherly narco boss is receding into the depths of memory.